


Underneath the Sun

by timelordangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, a smidge of angst, cas and plants otp, generally domestic bunker cuties, human!Cas, saga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordangel/pseuds/timelordangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A four part series of domestic bunker life for Team Free Will. Focus is mainly on Cas, and how his relationship with Dean works, and how Sam is supportive as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walls

Dean Winchester had massive walls surrounding him, with windows exactly where he wanted windows, so people could only see exactly what parts of him he wanted people to see. Sam Winchester happened to know where a few holes in the walls were, but other than that he let his brother hide behind the metaphorical structures in peace.

But Sam, in short, had no idea how Dean and Castiel’s relationship worked. Did Dean let Cas inside those walls? Did they not talk about what was behind the walls? There was no way to tell, and around Sam the two hardly ever acted like a couple at all, so the younger Winchester gave it his best guess and preferred to not think about it at all.

But one night, night being used lightly here as the large hand on the clock in his room was still struggling to make its way to the twelve, while the small hand was just about on the ten, Sam gave up his pointless scrolling down archives of the Smithsonian Online site, and ventured down the hall to the kitchen of the bunker.

That’s when he heard it. The, almost faint, tinkering of piano keys. Now, in a late Victorian romance novel, a great piece would be flowing like honey from the grand piano, with its sinful melody leaking out from under the crack in the door and the very sound itself would bring Sam to his knees, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. But this was a random Tuesday night, and the only music he could hear was what seemed to just be random keys one after another. With curious eyes, he walked down the hall that led to the one room with a giant, dusty old grand piano that was in desperate need of tuning.

The room was still and dark, but the moonlight and Sam’s quickly adjusting eyesight drew his gaze to the piano bench, where his brother and the once-again recently human Castiel sat side by side, both in pajamas. Their backs were towards the door, and Sam briefly considered leaving this private moment to go make himself cereal like he had originally left to do, but at all once it hit him: there were no walls. Right there, in that dark, dusty room at a quarter past ten at night, Dean had no walls up.  

“Check this out.” Dean mumbled, or it sounded like mumbling from Sam’s position, as he played the opening notes to “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

“You don’t play any instruments.” Cas said as he tilted his head ever-so-slightly.

“It’s like… something you just learn. Like how everyone knows the national anthem.” Dean grinned (and Sam can tell, because when Dean says anything he turns towards Cas, like the two centimeters between them would hinder Cas’ comprehension if Dean were to speak straight ahead).

“I suppose I should, then.” Cas said as he walked his hands over a few keys somewhere in the seventh octave.

“Well, I’ll have to teach you one day. Add that to the list of… let’s see…” Dean turned towards Cas ( _shocker_ , Sam thinks) in a mock-thinking pose, “cooking omelets, washing a car, remembering to turn off the sink, not stealing people’s t-shirts-“By this point they’re both laughing, and in the middle of the day it would seem soft, but in the Piano Room it feels loud, and Sam wonders how long they’ve been sitting here, or how they ended up here at all.

“You said I looked nice in your shirts.” Cas jabbed, his smile not fading.

“You do.” Dean sobered up for a second, but he still looked over at Cas, his gaze lingering. “You wanna go to Boulder with us next week?”

Ah, there’s a wall. Apparently Dean’s Cas-made mind resort isn’t so all-inclusive after all. The minute things get serious, or emotional, Dean will tolerate it for a moment and then change the subject faster than you can say apple pie.

“Boulder?” Cas let it happen, following Dean’s lead. Sam knew Cas could tell what his boyfriend (and isn’t that just a strange word to describe Dean and Cas in regards to each other, he thinks) was doing, and he was okay with that.

“Boulder, Colorado. There’s a Rockies game and I figured it’d be good to get out of the house and on the road for a bit.” This time, Dean kept his eyes on the piano.

“I’ll stay here and water the plants.” Cas said.

“What, something against baseball?” Dean nudged his shoulder.

“The last thing I’d want is for you to get tired of being around me.” Cas said to the instant-puppydog beside him.

“It’s not like you were all-so present before,” Dean retorted, “Come on, I’ll let you ride shotgun. Sammy won’t be too happy, but I’ll deal. Give em’ some cards or something.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if his brother’s idea of pleasing him is always a deck of playing cards.

“You’re ever-so convincing.” Cas said in a way that Sam (and he guessed Dean as well) could not interpret as sarcastic or not. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great.” Dean grinned. “You tired?”

“I think so.” Cas scoffed.

Sam took this as his cue to leave and walked away silently, continuing on his path to the kitchen. When Dean found him twenty minutes later, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the kitchen, he showed no signs of knowing Sam had heard anything.

“Did you ask Cas about Boulder?” Sam said after swallowing.

“Yeah, he said he’d think about it.” Dean let out a sharp laugh, “As if he’s got a choice. Everyone likes baseball.”

Sam shrugged, and bit back his “maybe he’ll finally learn the national anthem” remark that would blow his cover. “Cas already go to bed?”

“Yeah, he’s still kinda bumpy on the sleeping intervals.” Dean said with a glance to his watch.

“You going to go join him?” Sam peeled a crust off the sandwich, daring to step into the acknowledging-Dean-and-Cas’-relationship territory, a line he tried his hardest to not get near.

“Yeah, yeah I think I will. Night Sammy.” Dean stretched, and Sam swore he saw a slight smile on his brother’s face. “And Sam?”

“Yeah?” Sam glanced up.

“You don’t have to try so hard not to step on my toes about this stuff. You’re my brother.”

“Gross, you’re sappy at night.” Sam rolled his eyes, which seemed to be the perfect response for Dean, who flashed his teeth with a grin and walked out.

Maybe Dean’s walls weren't as high as Sam had thought after all.


	2. Music

Dean was lounged back on his bed with his headphones on and Zeppelin playing, content within his own little world for the time being. The sun had just begun its descent to under the horizon and the air was littered with the bits of dust that were always there, but illuminated in the beams of sunlight stretching across his room.  And then there was a knock at his door.

Dean perked up, one hand pulling off the headphones. “Sam?”

“No, not Sam.” Cas said from the other side.

“Oh, come on in Cas.” Dean put the headphones off to the side.

“I found something you might be interested in.” Cas said immediately, speaking to the papers in his hands.

“Can we just forget about work for two seconds?” Dean whined, “Ever heard of ‘don’t work on the Sabbath’?”

Cas smirked, putting the papers on the dresser. “If not work, what would you rather do, Dean?”

To anyone else, this line might have been a horribly obvious innuendo, but from Cas’ mouth it was a sincere question, and Dean planned to answer it honestly.

“I’ve been listening to music. You found any you like?” Dean motioned towards the headphones as Cas sat on the end of the bed.

“Sam showed me Beethoven, and some other composers. They were alright.” Cas mused, staring intently at Dean.

“You hit me as an alternative fan.” Dean opened a drawer on his bed stand and Cas was intrigued to find it was entirely full of at least two dozen CD’s.

“Most of these are used, a lot are rather shit, but you’re welcome to any of ‘em. I’ve had them in the trunk for years now.” Dean said as he shuffled through them, picking out the occasional one. “Ah, you can even have one of the Zeppelin albums if you want.” He pulled out one in particular and pried open the stereo’s CD compartment.

“I know they are one of your favorites.” Cas got off the bed to join Dean in shuffling through the stack.

“The Beatles.” Cas picked up a clear case with a blank CD inside, “The Beatles- love, Jennifer” written in messy sharpie on it.

“Oh, that’s just a bunch of their songs, you’ll like that one.” Dean gently took the CD from Cas and switched it with the Zeppelin one before hitting play.

The moment Twist and Shout started to play Dean’s face crinkled and he hit the skip button, offering no explanation as to what trauma lay behind the lyrics. Penny Lane began next, and Dean grinned.

“Come on Cas, dance with me.” Dean grinned more, stepping back and holding out his hands.

Cas gave a small smile, “I don’t think so.”

“Come on.” Dean gave him no choice, taking his hand and pulling him closer. At this, Cas couldn’t help the corners of his lips turning up.

“Penny Lane, is in my ears and in my eyes, there beneath the blue suburban skies…” Dean sang along, chuckling when Cas turned out to be an okay dancer after all.

“My mom used to sing this song to Sammy and me all the time when we were kids.” Dean commented idly when Hey Jude began. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s beautiful.” Cas said as they sort of danced around Dean’s room. Cas had his arms draped over Dean’s shoulders, and Dean’s hands took their place on Cas’ hips. It was comfortable, and slow.

“Hang on.” Dean pulled away, skipping forward a few songs on the CD.

“And when I touch you I feel happy, inside, it’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide, I can’t hide!” Dean comically danced back over to Cas, holding out a hand.

Cas rolled his eyes and took his hand, letting out a surprised gasp when Dean pulled him closer than before. Dean kissed him, slowly at first, and then more.

It took about seventeen seconds for Cas to pull away, not bothering to leave Dean’s hold when he did so however, which was an improvement (Dean was mostly supporting him by this point anyway).

“You okay?” Dean smiled warmly before kissing Cas again, this time letting their bodies move flush against each other. They did this quite often, but never got very far.

“Yeah.” Cas kissed back, moving his hands to Dean’s waist.

“Good.” Dean allowed himself to grind against Cas ever so slightly, and that’s when Cas froze.

Cas took a step back as if by reflex, his eyes growing a little bit too wide. Dean resisted the urge to make unhappy noises and let Cas step free.

“I, uh.” Cas glanced at the floor, and the wall, and back to the stereo.

“Hey.” Dean gently took Cas’ hands, “Don’t be scared. Let yourself relax for a few minutes.”

“I am not frightened.” Cas’ eyes narrowed slightly.

“No, but I can tell you’re apprehensive or whatever. Do you want… this?” Dean looked into Cas’ eyes, looking for answers.

“Of course I want this.” Cas replied, staring back at twice the intensity.

“Okay, then let yourself relax. We don’t have to go far, I just want to go a little bit more than before.”

“Okay.” Cas said, stepping closer to Dean.

“Okay.” Dean said before kissing Cas again, pleased when Cas responded well.

The track was now on Drive my Car, which was slightly ironic because Cas was almost certain Dean would never let him drive the Impala, but it was good for dancing.

This time, when Dean pressed their bodies together and began to move slowly, Cas didn’t pull away. And by the end of that song, he even began to move too.

“You want to shut the door?” Dean breathed into Cas’ ear, his voice slightly breathy.

They kissed their way over to the door, Dean reaching out a hand to shut it before turning and pushing Cas up against it and wrapping Cas’ legs around his own waist.

“Comfortable?” Dean asked, and his question was answered with an even deeper kiss.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes, while hands explored stomachs and lips explored necks, but when Cas put his hands in the back pocket of Dean’s Jeans, he let out a small gasp that made Dean laugh.

“See, this is nice.” Dean said softly, his lips centimeters from Cas’.

“It is nice.” Cas stole a kiss, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I just want you to be comfortable.” Dean let Cas down to the floor, forcing Cas’ hands from his pockets. “My arms however, are not feeling very comfortable.”

“Should we continue this another time?” Cas suggested, rubbing his neck in a gesture that was all-too-human.

“Tonight?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Can I pick the music?” Cas asked, his look equally mischievous.

“As long as I have veto rights!” Dean laughed as Cas walked off, intent on borrowing Sam’s computer for the evening.

Eventually Cas would find he really enjoyed an album by The Artic Monkeys, and while Dean high fived himself for guessing that Cas would like alternative best, he refused to make out to AM. Cas didn’t give a shit, and played it anyway.


	3. Basil

It was Sam’s idea, Dean swears. Cas was adjusting to being human once again, after the borrowed grace expelled itself from Cas’ vessel and left Cas where he had been months prior. When I say adjusting, you might imagine him struggling with showering, eating, or even lacing up shoes, but when I say adjusting I mean coping with everything he had lost. He was fine with everything physical, sleeping was a bit rough, he sometimes wouldn’t eat out of spite, but what really crushed him was the pain of everything he had caused, and that now he was helpless in every single way. 

Dean helped, or tried to, but when Cas got himself down he got very, very down, and neither brother could pull him out of it, sometimes for days.  
Three weeks in, Sam came back from a supply run with a bag of soil and a small one-ninety nine packet of basil seeds. 

“Is now really the time to be thinking about properly spiced foods, Betty Crocker?” Dean eyed the packet as he washed his hands in the sink. 

“It’s for Cas.” Sam glared at his brother as he took an old cool whip container and filled it with soil. 

“Okay…?” Dean shook his head, “I’m not even going to ask.” 

“He needs to feel useful, he likes nature, I just figure if he has something to take care of it’ll keep him from shutting down for days. Helped me at one point.” Sam told Dean anyway as he stood up. “Come with me to show him.”

“Fine.” Dean followed as he dried his hands on his jeans. 

“Hey, Cas.” Sam pushed Cas’ door open with his shoulder.

“Hello Sam, Dean.” Cas looked up from his desk. “What is that?”

“It’s basil. I was wondering if you’d grow it for me.” Sam said so nonchalantly Dean couldn’t help but feel mildly impressed. 

“Indoor growth will not surpass outdoor growth, but if you insist, sure. I’ll watch over it.” Cas stared at the cool whip container. 

“Okay, great! Just sprinkle the seeds on top and keep it watered. Thanks Cas!” Sam grinned as he held the packet of seeds out. 

“Okay.” Cas said as he returned his focus to the work after taking the packet and putting it next to the container. 

“Yeah. Okay, thanks, bye.” Sam nodded before leaving, motioning for Dean to follow. 

Sam wasn’t sure that Cas would remember to even plant the seeds, but the next night while Cas was showering, Sam peeked in his room and saw the packet of seeds ripped open and leaning against a couple of books. The makeshift pot itself was under the lamp on the desk, and it was turned on. Sam smiled and mentally patted himself on the back before leaving. 

A week later, Sam had almost entirely forgotten about the plant. Cas, however, had been behaving like a normal human being (he even began to drink his coffee with creamer instead of just taking it black) which was a godsend to the Winchester brothers, who frankly had enough on their plates already.  
It was Cas who brought it up over spaghetti Dean had made one night. 

“The plant I’m keeping for you has begun to sprout. Eventually, you plan to use it for spices, but it will be a while.” Cas said as he stared at his plate. 

“Oh, yeah. Thanks again for taking care of it, I’d forget.” Sam said with a friendly smile in Cas’ direction. The responding look Cas gave was not what Dean would consider “friendly” at all, as the ex-angel looked horribly offended that Sam could possibly forget about life he started. 

The conversation ended quickly. 

It was summer, and it had been four and a half weeks since Cas had gone into a hopeless spiral of despair, a fact for which Dean was almost over the moon. 

“Heya, Sammy. I think that plant thing might actually be helping Cas out a lot. It’s been at least a month since he’s gone all emo-angel on us.” Dean grinned.

“He’s not mentioned it in a while, for all we know he’s just gotten better at coping.” Sam said with a dejected air from the table where he had his nose buried in a book. 

“He’s mentioned it to me.” Dean said, confusion seeping into his voice. “It’s kind of cute actually, how fond of it he is.” 

“Really?” Sam perked up, “I wonder why he hasn’t mentioned it to me.” 

“I think he’s waiting until it’s useful. That’s just how he is.” Dean hummed as he shuffled through papers. “Give it a few more weeks.” 

And sure enough, a few weeks later Sam was cooking pasta when Cas came into the kitchen holding the same Cool Whip container Sam had given him months prior. This time, however, it had a wonderfully healthy and full basil plant growing out of it. 

“Woah, Cas.” Sam turned around and looked at the plant for a long moment. “That’s amazing.” 

“It’s finally fit for consumption, I hope it is satisfactory.” Cas smiled at the basil, offering the entire pot to Sam. 

“Well, it looks great. I’ll only need four or five leaves, so would you mind keeping it growing so I can use it for a long time?” Sam took the pot but placed it on the counter. 

“Oh, of course!” Cas said after a pause, and Sam knew Cas was instantly relieved that he could keep the plant. 

The pasta that night had never tasted better, and eventually Dean would hold Sam completely responsible for rehabilitating Cas with a simple packet of basil seeds. 

Whether or not it was true, it still made Sam damn happy to believe.


	4. Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas took to eating well the first time he became human, but not so well the second time. Luckily, Dean's always there to help him out.

“Guess who’s not eating again.” Sam barged into the library where Dean was leaning against a wall with a large, leather bound book in his hands.

“He ate the PB&J I made him for lunch.” Dean said without removing his eyes from the text.

Sam dropped a plate onto the table and Dean glanced up at the sound of china colliding with mahogany, regretting doing so the minute he laid eyes on the untouched sandwich.

“Where?”

“The cabinet above the sink.” Sam replied, crossing his arms.  

“Son of a bitch.” Dean said as he closed the book and shoved it roughly back into the bookshelf. “I’ll deal with this.”

“You need backup?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Dude, it’s just Cas.” Dean nudged passed his brother, grabbing the plate. “I’ve got this.”

Cas was alone in his room, working on a Sudoku puzzle he’d found among the miscellaneous junk in the various drawers. When Dean knocked, he’d half hoped Cas would be asleep, because lately the guy had been struggling to get the required four hours, (lately Cas had been struggling about a lot of things) but he was greeted with a “Come in!” instead.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean said in lieu of a greeting.

“I beg your pardon?” Cas turned towards Dean from the chair of his desk.

“Do you realize how horrible you are at hiding food?” Dean held out the plate, watching Cas’ eyes land on it.

“It was a temporary fix.” Cas squinted. “I was not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat dinner, slept through breakfast, hid lunch, and now you’re telling me… come on, Cas. What’s up?” Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands clasped.

“I can’t really differentiate the unpleasant feeling of hunger from the urge for rest or urination or anything, really. It’s bothersome.” Cas returned to his puzzle.

“Bullshit.” Dean stood, “So help me Cas, you _will_ follow me.” He proclaimed as he walked out, not surprised at all when he heard the desk chair scoot back seconds later.

Carly Pierce was a widowed 63 year old waitress at a little diner on the side of the interstate somewhere in Kansas, and by this time she thought she had seen just about everything. She had seen monstrous, hairy truckers with pictures of wives and husbands and even dogs in their wallets, she had seen scared, lost teenage boys with too little sense and too much gas in their cars, and she had seen exhausted soccer moms shouting at apathetic second graders for an hour straight. She had watched an elderly man have a heart attack right before her eyes, and she was the one who dialed 9-1-1 with shaky hands moments later.

She had seen couples get together, break up, make up, and cry tears of joy, and she had also seen women storm out and she had watched men cry like children, pushed in the corner of a booth. She had seen businessmen order off the kids menu and twenty year olds eat alone. She had served excited residents and road-weary travelers, and people for whom she could not even begin to guess their stories.

Sometimes she saw people she couldn’t even really say were _people_ at all.

But on a regular night when the diner was neither busy nor empty, she witnessed an ex-angel being hand-fed pie, and she could definitely say it was a first. Of course, she knew not that Castiel used to be an angel, but the scene was still unusual in its own way. So, from behind the counter, she listened to their conversation.

“This is apple pie.” Dean held up a forkful of brown goop covered in a flakey crust. Cas took the fork and ate the bite, seemingly judging every second of it. His eyes flickered through a range of emotions even Dean could not understand, before finally settling on decently pleased.

“It takes less like apple and more like cinnamon.” Cas noted, handing the fork back to Dean. “I preferred the peach.”

“You haven’t tried blueberry yet!” Dean laughed, stabbing a different colored pile of desert.

Cas repeated the motions, nodding his head before he finally swallowed. “Better than the cinnamon.”

“You’d of loved my mom’s pie.” Dean used the same fork and scooped up more apple before eating it himself.

“I’m sure it would be better.” Cas said as he waited for Dean to hand the fork back. “Do you realize we have only eaten pie this meal?”

“Well, technically Sheppard’s pie isn’t really pie.” Dean laughed as he remembered ordering for Cas, and the confused look on Cas’ face.

“I liked it.” Cas said as he took the cloth napkin and wiped it across his mouth.

“The pie?”

“No, eating with you.” Cas glanced over at the waitress behind the counter and gave a small smile, as if he somehow knew she knew what was going on. If anything, she took it as they were ready for the bill.

“Yeah, I’m just glad you ate. No more hiding food, okay?” Dean gruffed, slipping back into his serious demeanor for a brief second.

“Okay.” Cas agreed, “Now, I am full. Perhaps, a bit too full. We should probably head back home.”

The way Cas said home erupted fireworks in Dean’s chest. The word implied that yeah, they were going to the same place, but this was more than a place of work or a temporary place for them to sleep. They were going _home_ , together. And if Cas noticed the way Dean caught on the word and hesitated before responding, he said nothing. Dean was silently thankful as he responded.

“Yeah, let’s go home, Cas.”  


End file.
